


The Gift that Keeps on Giving

by chickenlivesinpumpkin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Dialogue-Only, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Language, Humor, M/M, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 22:45:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5603710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chickenlivesinpumpkin/pseuds/chickenlivesinpumpkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Malfoy comes home from a business trip, he finds something rather...appalling. And Harry's excuses aren't much better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gift that Keeps on Giving

**Author's Note:**

> I blame Christmas for putting me in the mood to write this. This fic is patently ridiculous. And a little gross in the beginning. And as fluffy as a dozen baby rabbits by the end. Honestly, it’s embarrassing. I’ve told myself that the dialogue-only narrative makes it edgy, but that’s a dirty lie. Also, I’m 95% sure this is canon-compliant (except for the epilogue) but I'm not going to re-read half of Deathly Hallows for this piece of…lovely fiction. So if it’s wrong…well, I’m sure our lives will somehow retain meaning. =D Happy Holidays!
> 
> Rated M primarily for salty language.

 

 

“Potter.”

“Grbrle.”

“Potter.”

“Mmm?”

“ _Potter._ ”

“Sleepin’. G’way.”

“Potter!”

“Fuck, Malfoy, _what_?”

“Get up.”

“I won’t.”

“Oh, yes you will.”

“Not the boss of me.”

“I bloody well should be. What is this?”

“What’s what, you pompous—oh. That.”

“Yes. _That._ Now then. Picture me coming home after a perfectly wretched business trip, tired and worn from getting up at four in the morning to catch the floo from Brussels, and I’m desperate for a cup of tea and a nice snog with my boyfriend. I walk in, relieved to be home—more fool me—and I find _that_ on our antique mahogany coffee table. _That_ , which I thought must be some sort of juice, even though there’s no reason for liquid of any sort to be in my mother’s decorative brown glass vase, which cost a fortune and has probably been in my family for centuries, and particularly not _that_ liquid, which is quite obviously _not_ some sort of juice anyway. _That_ , which, if my nose doesn’t deceive me, is actually _piss in a vase_.”

“Um.”

“Could you please explain to me why there is piss in the expensive vase that my mother gave to us as a housewarming present?”

“Yes. Er. Could do.”

“I’m waiting.”

“Well.”

“Yes?”

 “The thing is…”

“Yes?”

“The thing…”

“Potter, I am running out of patience and I’m not known for it under normal—”

“It’s Ron’s.”

“…It’s Ron’s.”

“Yes.”

“Ron Weasley’s.”

“Right.”

“Weasley pissed in a vase in our sitting room and left it on our coffee table.”

“Yes. He did. Um.”

“Why on earth would he do that?”

“Because he’s a wanker?”

“Is that a question?”

“Noooo. He’s a wanker. Definitely.”

“I see.”

“Yeah. He does this from time to time.”

“Interesting.”

“Yeah. You know. Not, like, often or anything. But sometimes he just…”

“Pees in vases in other people’s homes?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Right.”

“Uh, why does your face look like that?”

“This is what my face always looks like, Potter.”

“Uh, _no,_ it doesn’t alwa—who are you firecalling—no, wait, ow, _fucking dresser,_ Malfoy _…_ ”

“Yes, hello, connect me with Hermione Granger’s office, please. What? Oh, for fuck’s sake. I don’t know the department. You work there, how is it that you don’t know her department? Something in law. Or the environment. I don’t know. Look it up, you wretched bean counter.”

“Malfoy…no, I wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t—uh, you know, I can talk to him about this. You don’t have to…and besides, it’s Ron with the problem. Wouldn’t you rather call Ron to complain?”

“No. Weasley is as much of a fucking liar as you are, Potter. And while I’d love the chance to eviscerate him, I don’t intend to spend the rest of my weekend dealing with his sloppy, disgusting, rancid, ginger ways. Granger will take care of this far more efficiently. What? Oh, you’ve found it. Look at you, doing your job and reading words and everything. Good for you. Yes, of course I’ll hold, unless you can somehow conjure her directly to your side in instances such as this.”

“No, Malfoy, I just mean that…well, there’s no point in humiliating the poor chap, is there?”

“Are you referring to the bean counter or your best friend?”

“Erm, well, both, actually. But mostly Ron. There’s no point in humiliating Ron.”

“There is if it means he stops pissing in vases and leaving it every place.”

“Well, yes, and that’s…that’s clearly wrong. I just mean that we should probably humiliate him…er, privately. Away from Hermione.”

“Why?”

“Because…because…Jesus.”

“Do stop whimpering, Potter. Oh, Granger, I’m glad I’ve caught you. How do you do, lovely morning, must catch up, all of that, but first—”

“Fuck, don’t—you can’t—Malfoy—Oh, hi, Hermione. How’s…um, can we, uh, call, uh, sometime…else?”

“It’s miraculous, Granger, that the lad manages to feed himself with that sort of control over his mouth, isn’t it? —Now. To business. Your boyfriend has apparently—

“It’s mine! All right? It’s mine and we both know it and I admit it and you can do whatever—”

“Ah, honesty at last…”

“Hey! Don’t just…well, that was rude. She’s only going to floo us back, you know. She probably thinks it was a loose connection or something that disconnected her.”

“Then you can explain it to her, if you’re suddenly so concerned with manners. I’m more concerned with your basic hygiene and fundamental lack of cleanliness.”

“Uh. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“You cannot possibly guess what I am thinking at this moment.”

“…no, that’s a good point. I’ve no idea, actually…”

“I’m thinking you’re a fucking disgusting pig, actually. And that I’m never sleeping with you again. And that this is the first time I’ve seen something about you that convinces me that you are actually related to that uncle of yours—”

“Hey, now, that’s a bit—”

“It’s PISS IN A VASE, YOU TWAT.”

“…and I admit, that’s a wee bit gross…ha ha, wee…uh, that’s not funny. Sorry.”

“And why?”

“Why isn’t it funny? Well, your face is turning sort of purple, and I’m worried you might be about to have a coronary or something. That’s what they’re called, ri—”

“ _WHY IS THERE PISS IN A VASE ON MY COFFEE TABLE?_ ”

“Argh! All right! Fuck! Because it’s our fucking anniversary, you arse!”

“Our anniversary.”

“Yes, our anniversary.”

“Our…”

“Did you forget?”

“No, I did not fucking forget, although I will admit to being bewildered as to how these things are related. Are you…are you giving me piss for our anniversary? Truly? Is this…some sort of commentary—”

“What? No, fuck, what the hell—”

“—on our relationship? Because despite the looming mid-life pudge round your waist, I thought we were fine until you decided to start decorating with bodily fluids in glass. Or is this part of that arbitrary Muggle custom thing you do each year? Is piss the symbol for the fifth year or something? Is this a part of your ‘heritage’ that I’m supposed to be respecting?”

“You are the bitchiest thing I’ve—I do not have pudge! And giving piss for an anniversary is not a Muggle custom, no. Arsehole. It’s because the toilet…Merlin. Now it’s all wrecked. Just…go look in the damn loo, will you?”

“Why, did you piss in the sink, too? Did we run out of pottery? Shall I get you a jar?”

“JUST GO LOOK IN THE LOO.”

“Oh, I will. I’ll look in the fucking…”

“Well?”

“I…”

“Oh, at a loss for words now, are we?”

“I…it’s so…but how does this…piss…Potter… it’s…”

“I couldn’t get in because they were in here for eleven _hours_ fixing the floor once they tore the old one out, because it turns out that your bloody ancestors put a bunch of curses on the plumbing in case anyone ever dared to put anything Muggle in. And that’s eleven hours without…and I had to…you know. _Go._ But I couldn’t use the downstairs bath because that’s where they’ve crammed in the old one until they can pick it up tomorrow, and it’s blocking off the toilet entirely. And it wasn’t like I could risk you finding out that I popped next door to Number 11 to use Mrs. Wilkinson’s loo and left _common_ _workmen_ unsupervised in our home, or anything, could I, because I’d never hear the end of that if she mentioned it, would I? And by that time it was getting to be a bit of an emergency. So I did what I had to do, all right? I was gonna banish it, but then I got distracted by the workmen leaving, and I had to sign for the exchange and affirm the pick-up time for the old one, and by the time that was all done, it was after one in the morning and I was bloody exhausted and I just fell into bed and—”

“Potter…it’s gorgeous.”

“Well…”

“No, it is, really. It’s just like the one—”

“Yeah, from the shop window.”

“It’s got the little claw feet and everything.”

“Well, you liked the damn feet.”

“I did like the feet, you pouty thing. I _do_ like the feet. They’re…absolutely lovely feet.”

“They better be, all I’ve gone through for…mmph…mmm, oh, well, I guess you like it.”

“You guess? Clearly, I need to be more convincing. Let me just…”

“Mmm. Well, yes, that’s…oh, Malfoy, you’re…Merlin. Fuck. Well, if you must. Guh. Uh, oh, fuck, yeah, that’s…wait, where are you going?”

“Take that off.”

“I have to take off my pajama top to get a blow job?”

“No, you have to take off your pajama top to fuck me in my new claw-footed bath tub. Hurry up.”

“If you insist, I—fuck, that hurt. God, why’d we put that planter there again? Every damn time, same damn toe—”

“Stop walking and undressing at the same time and you won’t…oh, hell, I can’t even properly be mean to you, I’m so happy. Look how pretty it is.”

“Yeah, it’s super. Are you gonna unbuckle your belt or would you like me to leave you two alone?”

“I’m sorry I ruined the surprise, Potter.”

“It was a little ungrateful of you.”

“I found piss on my coffee table. Some might argue that I was downright understanding, considering. Piss. In a vase. On my coffee table.”

“And look, the water works and everything!”

“And just when you need a convenient change in subject, too. But I persevere. Bring that over here.”

“Just a sec, and you can have all you want, you dirty…where’s the damn…hey, Malfoy. Guess what the traditional fifth anniversary gift actually is.”

“Not bathtubs?”

“Ha ha. Wood.”

“Oh, for crying out—you’re appalling, you know that, don’t you?”

“Ha ha. Yes. Ha. But…wood.”

“Are you going to talk about it or use it?”

“Ha. Oh, yeah. Let me…”

“We need bubbles next time. A whole thing of bubble bath, right in here. Something luxurious and sweet-smelling. Then we can…oh, yes, Potter, do that…open me up…uh, Merlin.”

“Christ, you’re tight. How the hell do you stay this tight when we’re fucking all the time?”

“Good breeding…that’s plenty, it’s good, it’s good, c’mon, fuck me.”

“Just hold on a minute.”

“This is not a position I can hold for forever, you know!”

“…”

“…”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s…right like that. Potter, you’re…mmm.”

 “So you like it?”

“Uh, uh…are my breathy gasps…mmm…somehow confusing?”

“The tub…ah…I mean.”

“Oh, yes, it’s…oh, oh, oh, right, that’s, the…yes, fuck, Potter, yeah, lift my leg and…guh, faster…faster…good tub…Merlin, fuck, yeah, right there, harder…faster…ow, that was my skull, you know…”

“Shut. Up. Shut. Up. Uh, back, lean back. Uh, arch your…fuck. Oh, fuck.”

“That’s—slow _down_ , Potter.”

“You just told me to go faster!”

“That was…before…I’m gonna…oh, I’m gonna.”

“Do it, so I can too. Fuck, are you…oh, sorry, is that too hard?”

“Do it harder, fuck, before I rip your face off and throw it at you.”

“Okay, yeah, good…”

“Faster now!”

“I _am_ going faster. I…that’s…yeah. Malfoy, that’s…”

“I know I know I know, yeah, like that like that…”

“Are you? Because I…uh, I am…”

“Fuck!”

“Ah. Ah.”

“Fuck…”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“I’ll admit that occasionally, Potter, you’re not entirely useless. Ugh, get off me. My calf is cramping.”

“Oh, sorry, I…hey, do you hear something?”

“Just the water dripping …wait. It’s her, isn’t it?”

“That’s not funny.”

“How long do you suppose she’s been shouting?”

“I _told_ you she’d just call back.”

“Oh, you’re so _pink_ , Potter. How much do you think she heard?”

“Well, if she’d heard anything she’d have closed her floo, wouldn’t she?”

“Says you. I’ve always thought Granger was a dirty bint deep under. She’s got the look.”

“You are so full of shit. Listen—she’s already given up anyway.”

“She’s probably only closed the floo so she can get a hand in her knick—”

“Shit, you’ve got a filthy mouth.”

“You love it.”

“Not when it’s about Hermione, you prat.”

“I suppose I could always talk about something else.”

“Like?”

“Like what I’ve gotten you for our anniversary. Assuming, of course, that we don’t have to wait another five years to exchange this particular gift.”

“Five years? Wood? You…Malfoy, you had better not be giving me your cock for our anniversary.”

“It’s the gift that keeps on giving.”

“You’d seriously better be joking.”

“Well, it’s no piss in a vase but…oh, if you’re going to pout about it. Fine. I’ll give you my cock twice. How about that?”

“And I’m the one without good breeding.”

“Three times? No? Demanding little tart, aren’t you?”

“I’m getting a towel.”

“Bring me one after you check the linen closet.”

“I’m not bringing you a towel at all, you git. You can languish in there indefinitely for all I—oh. Oh, Merlin. Malfoy, you _sod._ ”

“The gift _is_ supposed to be wood.”

“But…how did you? It’s a replica, right? No, it can’t be, because I recognize the wear from the grip. It looks…is this? It can’t be, but is it?”

“Not _entirely_ …It turns out that Aunt Andromeda went to find it after you left. It had badly broken, which is why she didn’t give it to you. But she held onto it, just in case you asked…well, so she says. I think the fact that even a little bit had survived gave her hope for you. Anyway, one thing and another, and it ended up in the Tonks’ garage, and last year, when you mentioned…so I asked her if she knew where I should be looking, and she handed it over. I took it to Tolliver Twig, who’s always done Father’s brooms, and he’s the best, truly…well, he couldn’t restore it entirely, obviously, but he managed to supplement the broken fragments with a similar type of wood so…it’ll fly, Potter. They’ve tested it, and it’s never going to be as fast as it was, but it’s—oof.”

“Draco, I…I don’t…I don’t know how to thank you. It’s the only real present he ever gave me, and I don’t…”

“I know. Well, don’t fall in, you idiot.”

“God, I can’t… _Draco_.”

“Yes, I love you too, you watery arse. Get off, you’re dripping all over me.”

“I’m not crying.”

“Oh, yes, you are. And I’m telling _everyone_ that I’ve _ever_ met.”

“You’re only all wet because you’re still in the tub.”

“Obviously.”

“It’s the best present I could’ve asked for.”

“It is, isn’t it? Hmm. Shall I get out so we can have a fly? Or…perhaps you should take a few minutes on your own, first?”

“Draco…”

“Take your time.”

“And then we can go out together.”

“All right. We’ll make an afternoon of it. But Potter?”

“Yeah?”

“If you don’t banish that vase of piss first, I’ll murder you in your sleep.”

“Hmm?”

“Potter, get back here. Do _not_ make me shout at you through the halls. I’m in the bloody bath, you prat. Potter!”

“Sorry, getting dressed, can’t hear you!”

“Oh, yes you can, you—”

“Be back in a jif!”

“Potter!”

“Bye!”

“Potter!”

“…”

“Potter?”

“…”

“That fucking arse, I’m going to…when I get my hands on him…where the hell’s the hot water tap on this blasted thing?”

 

  


End file.
